We tell ourselves that intimacy (and marriage) takes two people who are willing to work at it-but, unfortunately, we rarely have the slightest inkling of our "job" assignments in this project.
Do you know the feeling you get when you are awakened in the middle of a dream? The dream story is still real and full of color, but the waking world is rushing back into your mind. And for a moment both worlds are true, and you cannot quite tell the...
Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what they place really is. You see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town. ...
Was it necessary to tell me that you wanted nothing in the world but me?' The corners of his mouth drooped peevishly. Oh, my dear, it's rather hard to take quite literally the things a man says when he's in love with you.' Didn't you mean them?' At t...
I tell you the truth, a man may not make himself king; only the blessing of him who holds the kingship can elevate a man to that high place. For sovereignty is a sacred trust that may not be bartered or sold; still less may it be stolen or taken by f...
I felt his hardness and I suddenly understood-an older girl would have understood long before-that this was the currency of desire. He was my betrothed. he desired me. I desired him. All I had to do was tell him the truth.
Chélan had acted as imprudently for Julien as he had for himself. He had given him the habit of reasoning correctly, and of not being put off by empty words, but he had neglected to tell him that this habit was a crime in the person of no importance...
Hi there. I am the Gwarda, Breccan, the good-looking, sweet one." He winked. "The one thundering, yet, remaining aloof," he said loudly and continued, "is Darius. He's a savage, you know," he said quietly, leaning closer like he was telling her a sec...
But this was just metal and glass once," [Carter] said. "Raw materials. No form. No purpose. But Ben saw something in his mind. And the chemicals in his brain arranged to tell his hands to craft these uninteresting materials. This [sculpture] is the ...
Can you tell me what happened?" Her lips thinned as she shook her head. "'Tis not a happy tale." "You have me reading a book about a girl who tries to kill an entire town. Anything else at this point would be a pick me up.
I have things to tell you, but I don't think there's any point. It's like you took a can opener and peeled the lid off my heart and leaped out the day Will died. Why are you so silent? Of all times to leave me alone.
What I'm going to do up here, kid, is tell you a story. Like all stories, it's an attempt to make sense of something larger than itself. And, like most stories, it fails, to a certain degree. It's a gloss, a rendition, so it's not exact. But it'll do...
There are billions of conversations happening every second, and it’s too bad I can’t listen to more than about half of them at one time. Most are just he said she said chatter, and I want to tell them to go sip on gossip and leave the coffee talk...
To be defeated is only a fable in which one may tell of oneself. I will try and I will try again, though never shall I call it failure. I am simply one step closer to thy truth.
I am prophetic. I predicted it would snow tomorrow yesterday, and sure enough today it snowed. True, I’ve been saying it will snow tomorrow every day since June, but as you can see, my fortune telling prowess is improving.
I like to use my influence for good, rather than evil. And in this case, the good is a free meal at a swanky restaurant. But I don’t have much influence, as you could tell if you saw the meal I was just given: two packets of saltine crackers and a ...
Love is saying yes when you really feel like telling them no. That’s why when she asked if I’d marry her, I replied, “If you pick the place, I’ll pick the date.” She wants Paris, and I want March 5th 2082.
Look down and you may miss a shooting star in the sky. Look up and you may miss a starfish in the sand. But quick, look straight ahead and tell me what is that big, blurry thing that’s so bright? Oh yeah, that’s my love for you.
True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will say that I am mad?! The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute.
Each stroke of your fingers is a different word that describes the story. By itself it’s meaningless, but—” I pushed down on a few fingers helping her play a few notes. “String them together and you have a melody. You have a story. So, Saylor...
And I just want to tell you, at some point it doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.
